CHAPTER 9 BREAKING #2
“Don’t play the what if game, honey. It will only eat you alive. The anxiety and fear will destroy your mental health. Our brains do that in an attempt to protect ourselves, but it only feeds the fear monster.”
Her beautiful hazel eyes met mine. “You have to push the thoughts out and away. I know that’s easier said than done, but most things in life are.”
“That’s not just you being a social worker.” My eyes filled with tears for some reason. I wasn’t a crier. “You clearly got into medical social work for a reason.”
“Another time, Talon. The doctor is coming in.” The door creaked open and a relatively young doctor entered. He offered me a small smile. “Well Mr. Walker, after re-breaking your wrist, it’s a clean break. Which is a good thing. You’ll be in a cast for at least four weeks.”
One month. One month without hockey at a minimum. That would mean potentially no playoffs either. I could handle that as long as I would be able to play again. I looked at the doctor, waiting for him to finish the news. My feet stopped, all tension entering my jaw.
“With some therapy, and REST, you’ll be playing again before you know it. Ice and rest will be the key. Don’t jump back in once the cast is off. You’ll probably need a total of eight weeks of no hockey.”
“So, December?”
“Yes.” He handed me some prescriptions. “Rest,
Mr. Walker.”
I nodded as he walked out the door. Aife took the papers from me and placed them in a folder.
Where she got a folder from, I had no idea.
She was doing so much for me, and I didn’t know how to give her any kind of proper thank you.
She was stunning in every way I could think of.
My shoulders slumped, a wave of pure exhaustion hitting me.
“What else do we need to wait for? I’m ready to leave,” I said frustratedly. My right hand clenched into a tight fist. “I hate being here.”
“Hospitals aren’t my favorite place either.” Aife sent me a gentle look. Her hand landed on my fist, swiping her thumbs softly over it.
“You work in one, darling.” A small laugh left my mouth. “That makes no sense.”
Aife held my hand. “Your accent came out just now. Just because I work in a hospital doesn’t mean I like them. It causes me physical pain to be in these rooms in a non-social work capacity, Talon. I can do it for work, but this is killing me.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “But, I promised I would be here for you. So, I’m here.”
My brow furrowed in confusion, my jaw tightening as I attempted to pull back, only for her hand to grip mine more firmly. “Aife, what exactly does that mean?”
“Later. Not here, definitely not here. You just have to sign papers, and we can go.” She sniffled, running a finger under her eyes before the tears fell.
Was she crying? I quickly turned to look at her closely.
Her eyes and nose were red. Tears threatened to spill, but Aife’s finger had held them at bay.
She was trying to be strong—no, she was strong.
That woman had clearly been through more than I was aware of.
That was probably true of most people. They showed what they wanted to show. It was just a fact of life.
“Aife.”
Her eyes looked through me, like I wasn’t even there. “Please. Later.” She pulled away from me, and I instantly shivered at the sudden cold.
The door opened again, and a nurse came in.
She went over how to take my medications, care for my cast, and rest.
I signed some papers, and we were free to go.
We were going to meet the team, who had all followed us to the hospital.
Even Dre and Nat had shown up for me, and they barely even knew me.
They were all worried, and I couldn’t blame them.
Zeke wasn’t here though and that confused me.
“Where’s Zeke?” My voice was hoarse as Aife and I greeted my found family. “And Davis?”
“Davis is keeping Zeke out of jail.” Nat grabbed the folder Aife handed her. “He went after the Detroit player that nailed you.”
“The coaches and refs had to pull them apart.” Dre pulled a sharpie out of her purse. “Can I put my autograph on you?”
Nodding, I carefully held my cast out. I let Aife pick the color, and I wound up with a light purple cast. Dre signed first then Aife and then Nat. The rest of my team quickly followed, making sure to leave space for Zeke and Davis.
“Is Zeke in jail?” I asked quietly. Nerves roared through my chest at still being in the hospital. The smell burned my nose, closing my throat.
“No, thankfully.” Dre capped the sharpie once everyone had signed. “But Davis did have to spend a good while calming him down.”
“Who was it?” I asked. Everyone looked away. No one wanted to give me answers. It was annoying. No, it was extremely frustrating. Why wouldn’t anyone give me answers?
Chris decided to step forward as we walked out of the ER.
He laid a hand on my shoulder. “It was Tyler Hook… the same guy who gave me the concussion. All of hockey: coaches, players, and the commissioner are fucking pissed at him right now.”
Chris was not someone who cussed. Clearly, he was pissed too.
He was just as protective of the team as I was.
We loved our boys; we were family. My jaw tightened as anger hit my throat and chest.
“What do you mean the hockey world is pissed?” I reached for Aife’s hand. I wanted—needed—comfort. She gave it freely.
She easily slipped her hand in mine. My hand practically engulfed hers, but I felt at home for some reason. Aife made me feel at home and safe. I was feeling things for her. I wasn’t sure my heart was ready, but it had let her in without my permission.
The team all headed off to their cars after offering me condolences and sympathy.
I hated the pity. Injuries happened; it was a part of the athletic world.
We had all been there before. Mine was just fresh.
Chris stayed behind for a bit to continue speaking with me.
His brow was lowered, tension lining his face and shoulders.
“Hits are a part of hockey.” He clicked his truck open. “Late hits too, but not when we’re coming off the ice. That was cruel. His own teammates nearly rushed him. Both coaches let Zeke hit him for quite a few minutes. The whole arena was in a frenzy. I thought there would be a riot when you puked.”
My fingers squeezed Aife’s small hand. A burst of anxiety hit my chest. “Can’t wait to see that highlight on ESPN.”
“Don’t do that.” Chris narrowed his eyes at me.
Intensity that rivaled his playoff speeches radiated through that stare. “No one is judging.”
“I fucking threw up on the ice, Chris.” The anxiety was replaced with anger. People were going to laugh at me. I needed Dad… my chest tightened at the thought. Fuck, I missed my dad. Tears started to well in my eyes again.
“Talon.” Aife’s voice broke into the racing thoughts. “You need to rest. Davis texted and said Zeke is fine. Let’s go get some food and get you in bed.”
Rational. Logical. She knew these steps too well.
What wasn’t she telling me? We hadn’t known each other long, but there was definitely a connection, an undeniable one. I wanted to know everything about her. She tugged on my hand, pulling me to her car.
“Later, Chris.” My words were clipped, anger and grief battling.
He nodded before jumping into his truck. My fingers tightened around Aife’s hand. She motioned for me to get in her car. “We’ll go to my place. You have stairs, and you might get loopy after taking the medications.”
“Aife.” Every time I said her name, it came out deeper than I expected it to.
Her eyes met mine. “Yeah?”
“Thank you. I really appreciate all your help tonight. You dropped everything for me and even held my hand. So, thank you.”
“Any time.” It was a genuine statement. She didn’t even need to say anything else. Those two words meant more to me than she would realize.